


Bitten

by BasementVampire



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Dystopia, Gore, Hallucinations, Hearing Voices, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, Mental Instability, Psychosis, Self-Harm, zombie!frank
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-21
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2018-08-23 17:40:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8336854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BasementVampire/pseuds/BasementVampire
Summary: As the zombie apocalypse rages outside, Gerard struggles to come to grips with the fact that his lover, Frank, is now the enemy.  They want to believe that Frank can stay sane and not become one of the mindless, hunger-driven creatures that terrorize Jersey, but that may be easier said than done...





	1. There's a Corpse in This Bed

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! This is my first chaptered fic and I'm really excited, so I'm hoping you guys will like it as much as I do so far. I hope to be posting regularly, and I'll update the tags as necessary. Hope you enjoy! :)

Gerard started at a knock on the door.  “Who is it?” he called, making his way out of the living room and down the hall.

“It’s me,” Frank’s voice replied.  Something about the gravelly, rasping tone made Gerard uneasy.

_(something’s wrong, something’s wrong, why is frank so late)_

Gerard looked through the peephole to confirm that it was in fact Frank before unlatching the door and opening it.

Gerard nearly gagged at the smell.  _(the smell, oh god, the smell, he smells like—)_ He was met with this horrible, putrid scent that made him almost puke.  “Holy hell,” he wheezed.  “Frank, what the fuck?  Are there walkers out there or somethin’?”

Frank looked up, staring at Gerard with glazed-over eyes.  “I didn’t get the water,” he slurred.

_(something’s definitely wrong with frankie)_

He glanced pensively over Frank’s shoulder, trying to see if there were any undead nearby.  The area seemed clear, as usual, so where was that stench coming from?

“Why didn’t you get the water?” Gerard asked.  They were completely out, that’s why Frank went out alone at this time of night in the first place, _(alone, you let him go out alone)_ so Gerard couldn’t understand why he’d come back empty-handed.

“Fuck the water,” Frank snarled.  “Fucking look at me.  _Smell_ me.  Why do you think I didn’t get the goddamn water?”

Gerard was taken aback by Frank’s sudden aggression.  _(frankie’s angry, why is he angry at us?)_   “What?”

Frank shoved past him into the house.  Gerard followed, grabbing at Frank’s arm and demanding to know what was going on.

Frank spun around and Gerard nearly screamed; now that he could see Frank in the light, it was obvious what was wrong.

“Oh god,” Gerard choked out, instinctively taking a step back.

“Why didn’t I get the water?” Frank growled.

Gerard shook his head, starting to hyperventilate.  _(please don't come any closer)_ They both knew what happened; he didn’t want to say it.  Saying it aloud would just make it more real.

“Why didn’t I get the fucking water?!” Frank yelled, eyes dark and angry.

Gerard recoiled, shaking.  He felt hot tears running down his face.  “You got bit,” he moaned miserably.

Frank held out his hand, showing Gerard the gaping, bloody wound on his forearm.  “I got bit,” he confirmed, teeth gritted.

_(fucking disgusting, look at that.  your lover’s a corpse)_

Gerard was lightheaded.  “Oh, Frankie, no…”

Frank’s hand went to his face, clawing at the fetid, rotting flesh.  “I’m a fucking zombie,” he lamented, more to himself than Gerard.

Gerard surged forward, grabbing Frank by the wrist before he clawed his own eye out or something.  “Stop it!  Frank, please…You’re gonna be okay.  You won’t end up like the walkers, you won’t.”

_(you think frankie’s not gonna lose his goddamn mind like they all do?)_

“You can’t know that!” Frank snapped, wrenching his hand away from Gerard’s grasp.  “Being... _this_ —it does things to people.  Fucks them up.”

“You—you’re not gonna lose it,” Gerard gasped through sobs.  “Not everyone—”

“I’m already fucking losing it, Gerard!”  Frank clutched at his own hair, pulling so hard Gerard feared he would start tearing it out.

Gerard cupped Frank’s face in his hands, fighting the urge to retch when he made contact with the greyed, rotting skin.  For a moment he thought he wasn’t going to be able to do this—he was so close and the smell was so fucking strong, and it only served to remind him that his Frank was _dead_.  Permanently, irrevocably _dead_.

_(oh, come off it.  we both know that in an hour you’re gonna be begging him to put his cold, dead cock in us)_

Gerard forced himself to ignore the voice.  “Frank, I know that—”  He swallowed hard.  He was touching a corpse, caressing his face like he would’ve done when Frank was still alive.  Still human.  He started again: “Frank, you’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met.  I know that if anyone can get through this, it’s you.  So please try—for me?  I can’t…”  He looked down, watching a tear roll of the tip of his nose and fall to the floor.  “I can’t live without you.”

_(don’t make us try)_

Frank’s hands fisted tightly into the front of Gerard’s shirt, like he’d go crazy if he ever let go.  “I’ll fight it.  I promise.”

“Okay,” Gerard whispered.  “Okay.”  He let go of Frank _(finally, fucking finally)_ and turned to close and latch the door.  _(something you really should have done ages ago, honestly.  i mean, how stupid can you be?)_

Gerard almost didn’t want to turn back around—turn and see Frank again, all cold, pallid skin and sunken eyes—but he did.  Frank was looking at him with this sort of confused expression, brows drawn together and head cocked to the side.  He looked like a lost puppy.

“You’re letting me stay inside?”

Gerard sniffed, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand, and shrugged.  “I can’t just make you go back out there.  Alone.”  He didn’t want Frank to be alone right now.

“You should.”  Frank looked desperate and scared.  “Especially while you’re—while you’re sleeping…”

_(he’s right.  you should put him outside like a dog)_

Gerard didn’t even want to consider what Frank was implying with his last statement.  “Frankie, please.  You need me right now.  And I need you—I’d be lying if I said I’m not terrified right now.”

“Are you afraid of me?” Frank asked, pain evident in his voice.

“No,” Gerard assured, closing the space between them and taking one of Frank hands _(cold, decaying, lifeless hands—)_ in his.  “No, I’m not afraid of you Frankie.  Just afraid _for_ you.  Afraid of what’s happening.  I need you with me.”

_(you goddamn liar.  you’re scared to death of him right now)_

Gerard resented that, no matter how true it was.  _Why don’t you shut the fuck up for once?_ he thought back bitterly.

_(maybe you take some more xanax and i will)_

Gerard clutched Frank’s hand tighter, leading him down the hall.  “C’mon—let’s get your arm cleaned up and go to bed.”

He sat Frank down on the couch before fetching their first aid kit.  He kneeled in front of Frank, wiping away the dirt and blood _(so much blood, oh god, so much blood—)_ from his forearm with a damp washcloth.  With the wound now less messy, Gerard was really able to see how serious it was, and swallowed back his dinner once again.

“Oh, holy hell,” Gerard breathed, looking at the ghastly bite.  It wasn’t just teeth marks and a little torn skin—no, it looked like the thing that bit Frank had fucking ravaged his arm like it was his last meal on death row.

Frank hummed indifferently.  “It’s fine.  It’s not—”  He paused looking for the right words, eventually settling on reaffirming with a shrug, “I’m dead.”

As if that wasn’t the last thing Gerard wanted to hear.  He sighed despondently, returning his task of dealing with Frank’s arm.  He wasn’t quite sure what to do—he’d never taken care of zombie bites, not infected ones, anyway—so he just cleaned and bandaged it like a regular injury.

Oh, how he wished this was just a deep, unfortunate wound Frank had received in any other manner than he had.

“Done,” he muttered, looking up at Frank once he was finished.

Frank stared back at him with those burning, beautiful eyes, lips pursed and hair tousled in that perfectly imperfect way.  Gerard realized that no matter what happened to Frank, he’d still find him breathtaking.  Even cold and dead and covered in scrapes and bruises.

_(hey, and since you’re already on your knees—)_

Gerard smothered the thought before it could finish forming.  “I think it’s bedtime.”  He stood up and started for their bedroom, halting when he realized Frank wasn’t behind him.

“What’re you doin’?” he asked, finding Frank still on the couch.

Frank looked puzzled for a moment, before his mouth dropped open.  “You can’t be serious.”

“I can, too,” Gerard said, crossing his arms.  “Now let’s go—you’re not sleeping out here.  Or do I have to drag you to bed myself?”

Frank sighed, not bothering to argue, and followed Gerard into the bedroom.  They stripped—neither possessing pajamas and both preferring underwear to sleeping in their clothes—and crawled beneath the covers.

At first, Gerard was regretting asking Frank to sleep in the bed with him; the smell alone was enough to put him off to the idea, but he also wasn’t quite keen on cuddling with a corpse—sentient or no.  _(he’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead!!)_   But despite Frank’s current status as one of the undead, Gerard still loved him, still needed him, still wanted to hold him close.  He knew they both needed that tonight, more than ever.  So he did the only thing he could—wrapped his arms around Frank and drifted off into a fitful sleep.


	2. Party at the End of the World

What Gerard had really wanted was to sleep the day away, curled up under a pile of blankets and pretending like last night was just a horrible nightmare.  He wasn’t ready to deal with reality at the moment.  Unfortunately, his body had other ideas; he woke, throat dry and stomach growling, and was unable to fall back asleep.

Coffee.  That would make everything better.  He’d be fine if he could just get some caffeine in his system.

_(you dumb fuck, we don’t have any water)_

Gerard groaned, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes.  He was going to have to go out today—as soon as possible—and pick up some water.

“Gee?  You up?”

He jumped, looking over at Frank who was facing him and rubbing his eyes sleepily.

“Yeah, I’m up,” Gerard sighed.  The way Frank’s bangs fell over his face almost hid his sallow complexion and vacant, sunken eyes.

_(oh god his eyes are so dead, they’re dead they’re dead why did you let him go out alone, why did you—)_

Gerard whimpered, covering his ears with his hands in a futile attempt to block out the words.  Frank stroked his cheek gently.  “Shh, it’s okay, baby.  I’m here, it’s alright,” he murmured.

_(maybe pick up some whiskey while you’re out, maybe that’ll make you forget about frank’s dead, sad eyes.  maybe everything’ll be okay if you just drink yourself into a stupor and forget forget forget)_

Gerard jolted up, shoving Frank off of him, and tore out of the room.  He couldn’t deal with this right now, he really couldn’t.  He snatched his phone off the table and called Mikey, not sure how early it was and not sure if he’d pick up, but hoping desperately he would.

“Hello?”  When he answered, Mikey’s voice was scratchy, like he’d just woken up.

“Hey, Mikes,” Gerard replied jadedly.  “Sorry, I know you were probably asleep.”

He could hear his brother yawn on the other end.  “Nah, it’s okay.  What’s goin’ on?”

Gerard wasn’t sure where to start.  “I, uh.  We’re out of water.  Can you go with me down to Rite Aid?”

“How come Frank’s not going with you?”

A pause.  Gerard said, “He can’t.”

“Oh.  Alright.”  Mikey didn’t press it; he probably knew as well as his brother did that Gerard couldn’t keep secrets from him—didn’t want to—and would be telling him everything halfway to the store.

“Be there in ten,” Mikey said before hanging up.

Gerard shuffled back into the bedroom, refusing to look at Frank, still sat on the bed, as he threw on his clothes.

“Where’re you going?” Frank asked.

Gerard huffed, tugging on one of his sneakers.  “To get water.  Mikey’s picking me up in the Chevy.”

“Oh.  Okay.”  _(aw, you nasty boy; you made frankie sad)_

“Are you gonna be alright here by yourself?”  He looked over at Frank finally to see him perched on the edge of the bed, gazing at Gerard with this sort of wretched, miserable look like Gerard was abandoning him or something.  Maybe he was.  But they needed water.

“I don’t know.”

That was absolutely _not_ the answer Gerard wanted.  “We gotta have water, Frankie,” he insisted, unsure if he was trying to justify it more to Frank or himself.

_(guilty, guilty, guilty)_

“I know,” Frank said, voice tight like he was going to cry.  Could Frank even do that anymore?

Gerard padded across the room until he was standing in front of Frank, reaching out a hand and letting it slide up the back of Frank’s neck and into his dark hair.  “I won’t be gone long, I promise.”

Before he overthought it, Gerard leaned down and pressed a soft, close-mouthed kiss to Frank’s dry lips.

_(oh gosh, you’re making us kiss a dead, rotting corpse)_

_Stop that_.  He was trying not to think too much about it, or he might be sick.

_(are you gonna throw up?  gonna puke all over frankie’s pretty, dead mouth?)_

Gerard pulled back, resting his forehead against Frank’s, trying to take a deep breath— _(i bet frankie’d love that, he’s a kinky motherfucker)_ —and not seem blatantly disgusted.

“You don’t have to do that,” Frank whispered, voice raspy and broken.

Gerard shook his head, eyes closed as he tried to concentrate on the feel of Frank’s soft hair tangled around his fingers.  The act was comforting—the silky locks still felt the same as they had when Frank was alive.  “I love you,” Gerard murmured.  It was the only thing he could think to say.

Frank clutched desperately at Gerard’s shirt.  “I love you, too.”

Gerard kissed him again, long and slow and deep.  It was dirty and desperate and said everything they couldn’t put into words, and even with the bitter taste of Frank’s saliva and the feel of his cold skin beneath Gerard’s fingers, Gerard didn’t want to stop.

Frank was gnawing on Gerard’s lower lip—which Gerard was getting slightly anxious about because, yeah, it felt good, but zombies _eat flesh_ , fuck—when they heard a knock at the door.

Gerard broke away, face flushed and heart racing.  “I—that’s probably Mikey.”

Frank looked down, wringing his hands, and gave a small nod.  “Yeah.  Okay.”

Gerard’s stomach twisted.  “I don’t wanna leave you, I really don’t.  I’m sorry, Frankie.”

“It’s fine,” Frank said, looking up through those long, pretty lashes.  _(god, couldn’t you just eat him up?  hahaha, get it??  eat him up?  zombies eat people?  ahaha!!!)_   “We’ve gotta have water.  And to be honest, I’m really craving some coffee right now.”

Gerard forced a smile.  “Yeah, so am I.”

 

 

~

 

 

“Frank’s okay, right?” Mikey asked, looking over Gerard’s shoulder and into the house.

Gerard bit his lip, trying to figure out how to tell his brother what had happened.  “Relatively,” he answered vaguely, scratching at the back of his head.

Mikey laughed.  “What do you mean, ‘relatively?’  What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Frank, uh…he got bit,” Gerard explained soberly.

Mikey's smile faltered after a moment.  “What, you mean, like… _bit_ bit?”

Gerard nodded.

“Oh my god,” Mikey breathed, blanching.  “You’re not serious?”

“I wish I wasn’t,” Gerard said.

Mikey pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, something his brother knew to be an anxious habit, and asked hesitantly, “What did you do with him?” like he’s expecting Gerard to have put a bullet in his skull or some shit.

Gerard frowned.  “I didn’t fucking kill him, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Where is he?” Mikey asked, eyes shifting to look behind Gerard again.

“Inside.”

“Where inside?”

Gerard huffed.  “In the bedroom.  Why?”

“The bedroom?” Mikey repeated incredulously.  “You let him fucking sleep in there with you?”

“What was I supposed to do?” Gerard demanded.  “He’s my—he needs me right now, okay?  And he’s still hanging in there—hasn’t started losing it.  And he’s not going to!”

Mikey held up his hands.  “Okay, dude, jeez.  You don’t gotta yell.”

Gerard hadn’t realized he’d raised his voice.  “I’m sorry,” he sighed, raking his hands through his hair.  “It’s just…I don’t know what to do, Mikes.”

His brother nodded understandingly.  “Well, just take things one step at a time, okay?  Let’s head on down to Rite Aid before the walkers come out looking for lunch.”

 

 

~

 

 

The Chevy sputtered to a stop outside the drugstore.  It was a wonder the thing was still running—the car in question was a black ’65 Chevelle that had undoubtedly seen better days; years of gunning down decimated Jersey roads and burning rubber as a makeshift getaway car during close-calls with walkers had left it less than up to par.  These days, though, cars were few and far between—especially for ordinary citizens—so the Ways weren’t complaining.  Plus, the Chevy was practically Mikey’s child, so he wouldn’t have traded it for any car in the world.

Upon parking, the brothers waited anxiously, glancing around the shopping center to make sure there weren’t any walkers nearby.  When they were sure it was clear, they hopped out of the car and dashed to the convenience store’s entrance.

Mikey pressed a button on the intercom by the large wooden door and said, “It’s us.”

“Who’s ‘us?’” came the crackly reply.

“You know who it is, Pete, open up.”

There was a sound like a chuckle from the intercom voice, and then, “Okay, okay.  Don’t get your panties in a bunch, Mikey.”

Mikey rolled his eyes and flipped Pete off when he opened the door.

“Nice to see you, Pete,” Gerard said politely as they walked into the Rite Aid.

“Whatcha here for?” Pete asked, sidling up next to Mikey as the brothers made their way down one of the aisles.

“Water,” Mikey replied shortly.

Pete pouted.  “Aw, I thought maybe you came to see me,” he teased.

“Pete, for the last time, fuck off,” Mikey said, but Gerard could tell he didn’t mean it.

“The flirtmance is cute and all, but we’re in a bit of a hurry,” Gerard told Pete with an amused smile.

Pete leaned on the shelf as Gerard and Mikey each grabbed a box of bottled water, trying to look smooth.  “Alright.  But you two better be at my party this Friday.  It’s gonna be lit!”

_(how the fuck does this guy have time for house parties in the middle of the goddamn zombie apocalypse?)_

A good question, but one that would probably never be answered.

“We’ll see.”  Mikey flashed him a smile from behind his mop of long, unruly hair.  “I’m kinda swamped at work, but I’ll try and make it.”

Pete’s face lit up.  “Awesome!  How ‘bout you, Gerard?”

“Maybe.”

“Cool!  And tell Frank he’d better be there, too.”  Pete stepped behind the register to ring them up.

Gerard’s chest tightened.  “Yeah,” he croaked.  “Okay.”

Pete beamed, full of a shocking amount of enthusiasm for someone living through the apocalypse.  “Whoo!”  He pumped a fist in the air.  “We’re gonna party through the end of the world!”

With a stab of envy, Gerard wished he could be that damn happy at Armageddon.


	3. Stay With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank is falling apart. Gerard wants to put him back together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it has been forever since I have updated this! Anyway, here is another chapter (a tad short, forgive me) that I finally finished writing.
> 
> Enjoy! <3

“Oh, shit.”

Mikey pulled his head back and slammed the door shut.

“What is it?” Pete called from behind the counter where he sat flipping through a magazine.

Mikey adjusted his glasses.  “Couple’a walkers out there.”

“This early?”

“Do you think we’ll be able to make it to the Chevy?” Gerard asked, biting his lip.  They’d be able to waste a few zombies easy-peasy, but he really wasn’t in the mood.

_(‘cause you’ll be thinking of what you’re gonna have to do to frank when he gets like that)_

_No, no, nooooo—_

Mikey sighed.  “Nah, they’re too close.  But it’s only, like, three—we can take ‘em.”

Reluctantly, Gerard set his box of waters on the floor and retrieved the gun from his holster.  Mikey did the same.

“You okay?” Mikey asked softly, giving this look like he knew exactly what was going through Gerard’s head.  He probably did.

Gerard nodded.  “Yeah.  Let’s do it.”

The door swung open to reveal two walkers between Rite Aid and the Chevy, and a third a few yards away.  At first, only one took notice of Gerard and Mikey as they exited the drugstore, looking at them with cloudy white eyes, mouth hanging open and drool running down her chin.  She stalked toward them, stumbling slightly as she went.

The other two began closing in then, quicker and more agile than the first, whom Mikey presently shot square in the forehead.  Gerard stared at the one coming at him from the side; he was short and tattooed with shaggy brown hair, and _(oh god don’t kill him, don’t kill him, oh fuckkk)_

“ _Gerard!_ ”

Gerard snapped out of it barely in time to raise his gun and pull the trigger.

_(oh god whyyyy…)_

“Gerard, what the hell?” Mikey exclaimed.  “That thing was two seconds from ripping your throat out!”

Gerard stared down at the boy who lay at his feet—the dead boy he’d just shot in the face.  _(is that how frankie’s gonna look when you put him out of his misery?)_

“Gerard.”

He looked up and was met with Mikey’s troubled face.

“What were you doing, Gerard?” he demanded.  “You could have been killed.”

Gerard’s eyes flicked back down to the dead boy.  “Sorry,” was all he could think to mutter in reply.

“No, not ‘sorry!’”  Mikey said, stomping his way back to the store entrance.  “I know what you were thinking, and you can’t do that!  You can’t let it go to your head like that.”

Gerard felt tears pricking at his eyes as he trailed behind Mikey.  His brother was right—he was being stupid and letting his emotions get the best of him.  These days, the less you felt, the better.

 

 

~

 

 

When he arrived home, Gerard found the front door open, and wondered absently why Frank hadn’t bothered to lock it.

“Frank?” he called.  No answer.

_(oh fuck, he’s—)_

There was a soft whimper from somewhere inside the house that sent Gerard’s stomach churning.  He dropped the boxes of water and rushed down the hall, calling Frank’s name again.  There was no reply other than the quiet noises which Gerard followed toward the kitchen.

_Oh, fuck._

Frank was kneeling on the ground, doubled over and moaning in pain as he cradled a bloody arm against his chest.  A kitchen knife, glistening and red, lay on the floor next to him.

“Frankie!” Gerard gasped, dropping to his knees in front of the other man.  “Fuck!  Are you okay?  What happened?”

Frank raised his head, dark hair casting a shadow over his face from which hazy eyes peered out.  “I hate this,” he sobbed brokenly.

Gerard grabbed his arm, trying to inspect the damage, and noting pensively that it was the one he’d bandaged the night before.

“Oh, god, Frankie,” he breathed, distraught.  The lower part of Frank’s arm was sliced up horridly, the bite indistinguishable amidst blood and flesh and sinew.  _(oh fuck, that’s disgusting, what did you let him do??)_

“Make it stop!” Frank wailed, desperate and scared as he looked pleadingly up at Gerard.

“Frankie, please—what happened?”  He could already guess.  He didn’t want to believe that was true.

“I just want to make this stop!” Frank cried, clawing at the mess on his arm.

Gerard grabbed his hand.  “Quit it, Frank!”

Pained, teary eyes met Gerard’s.  “’M so hungry.”

Gerard felt sick.   _(see? told you he was gonna lose it!!!)_ “No, no, Frank—you’re okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

“I have to go!” Frank gasped out between sobs, twisting away from Gerard.

Gerard held onto him _(don’t let him go, don’t let him go out alone again)_ , asking, “What do you mean?  Go where?”

Frank shook his head frantically, struggling to get away from the other man.  “Somewhere I can’t hurt you.”

_(he’s going to leave us don’t let him leave us oh my god no no no please pleeeaasse)_

“No!” Gerard all but shouted.  “Frank, you’re not leaving! You’re gonna be okay.”

“I’m so hungry,” Frank choked out.  His small body practically convulsed as he hyperventilated.  _(does he even need air? he’s dead)_

_You need air to talk, dumbass._

Trying to put the onset of unsettling thoughts out of his mind, he pulled Frank close to him, trying to calm him down. “Shh, baby, please,” he whispered. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

After a few minutes, Frank’s sobbing had subsided enough for him to choke out, “You don’t know how this feels. I can smell your blood. I want to taste your flesh.”

_(speaking of blood, how is his arm bleeding, anyway?)_

_Leftovers? He’s not totally decomposed._

_(yet)_

“Baby. Look at me,” Gerard said, tilting Frank’s head up. His miserable, tear-stained face made Gerard’s heart wrench. “I love you. I trust you. And I…I can’t live without you, so please fight this. For both of us?”

Frank sniffed. “How can you stand to be near me? I’m a fucking corpse. I’m dead, and rotting, and I’m aching to sink my teeth into your throat. Everything in me is telling me to pin you down and fucking tear you apart.”

_(sounds hot)_

Gerard’s breath caught on a sob; he hadn’t realized he was crying. “Frank, no. No. You’re still you, you’re still Frankie, the boy I love.”

“Okay.” Frank nodded, though his voice shook. “Okay. If you still want me, I’ll stay. I’ll fight it.”

Gerard leaned forward and caught his lover’s lips in a bruising kiss. He needed to feel it—needed to know that Frank was still tangible and real and _there_.

_(there you go again. he’s dead and here you’re fucking kissing him)_

_I’m trying to comfort him._

_(yeah. but you want his cock up your ass, too. right?)_

_Shut up._

“Gee?”

Gerard opened his eyes. “Yeah?”

“Nothing. You just…you kinda spaced out.”

Gerard averted his eyes, embarrassed. “Oh. Sorry. I was just thinking.”

“About?”

“Nothing.” It wasn’t the time. Frank needed to be taken care of, not begged for sex. “Let’s get you cleaned up and have a nap.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> And, if you are so inclined, I'd love it if you'd leave a comment and let me know what you think and if I should continue this. :)
> 
> <3

**Author's Note:**

> Whoo! Let me know what you think, and, of course, thanks for reading! <3


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